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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489770">within a dream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrow_key/pseuds/sorrow_key'>sorrow_key</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Realm of the Elderlings - Robin Hobb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Banter, Bonding over curses and shitty dads, Dreams, Established Relationship, F/F, Fairytale elements, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Mention of Burrich's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mention of Kyle Haven's A+ Parenting, Mention of canon-typical abuse, Middle School, Multi, Other, Pre-Relationship, Sappiness, Sick Fic (of sorts)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:35:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,479</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrow_key/pseuds/sorrow_key</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"So you want to bet?" Malta challenges as they pass the wolf. He catches a glimpse of them; a petite girl with dark curls and a puffy, white-tinged coat walks along the cub, whose focus is entirely on her guest. Neither of them notices the wolf. "Then let's bet, one secret for another. Since I'm answering your question, you'll have to answer one of mine."</p><p>"Fine," Nettle bites back. "In that case, I bet that you stayed up too late for some stupid reason and now you're pretending it wasn't because you wish your life was a shitty dramatic Y/A novel. Do you still want to take that bet?"</p><p>"Oh, but I do," Malta says, if possible, even more sweetly. "I was late because my dad came home and tried to kidnap my brother. Is that dramatic enough for your refined taste?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>FitzChivalry Farseer/The Fool, Nettle Farseer/Malta Haven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Winterfest - Rote Gift Exchange☆</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>within a dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedrooster/gifts">crownedrooster</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I didn't have enough of a word count with my snail mail gift, so here's an addition. Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He dreams he's a wolf. The forest he stalks is bled over with fallen leaves and the scent of an autumn evening. He sniffs at the air, catching traces of cubs and squirrels. They aren't close to him, but they haven't wandered far. They are not pack. He knows this, instinctively - they don't know him and he doesn't remember them, but nonetheless, they are his. But they are not who he's looking for. Who is he looking for? Who does he hunt?</p><p>He doesn't know, but still, he runs, runs through sharp-smelling pine trees, crosses a river (that is more of a puddle that takes itself too seriously) and barely turns his head at the heady smell of deers, until the trees start to part and he arrives at an openness. Someone is there at the openness and it is not a wolf.</p><p>"You aren't one of mine," says the human cub who is leaning against a tree with crossed arms. "Who are you?"</p><p>The wolf cannot say, so he stays silent and takes in the human cub. She looks older than she smells, with unexpected height and a determined slant to her features. Starlight twinkles in her dark hair, as if she were the night itself. Her clothing is practical yet unnaturally, undeniably lovely. Her deep-green coat is slick and just about reaches her ankles. As the wind moves it, its leaf-patterned edges flutter with the vitality of a living thing. The wolf doesn't know how he knows the words to describe her, only that they come to him the more he looks.</p><p>"You can talk, you know," the human cub continues with growing annoyance, "I know you can. You're not a part of my dream."</p><p>The wolf stays silent. He doesn't know what to say to her or how to say it.</p><p>"Fine, be like that, you mouse of a wolf. I don't know what you want, but you can stay as long as you hide somewhere and don't make a mess." The human cub huffs at him impatiently, angered. She isn't very good at growling or just not trying very hard. But she is a human, after all, so he supposes she can't help it. He cocks his head, trying to figure out what the cub means and what she wants from him. He doesn't have to wonder long for the latter.</p><p>"Shoo!" She gestures at him, the sleeve of her coat gleaming like morning dew. "Go on, mouse-wolf, I won't tell you thrice! Your sorry hide will scare my guest."</p><p>He does as she says and hides in the underground, not very far off. There is a power to the human cub; the forest bends to her will, wishing only to please her. But he doesn't fear her; he cannot fear her, no matter what she could do to him. What he fears is her anger. Not a growl or a snap, as is the way for any pup or wolf, but true anger. Her hatred would shatter him and the wolf doesn't know why, so he wants to know, badly, just what she means to him.</p><p>"You're late!" he hears the cub call from a distance, an unfamiliar warmth to her scolding. "And it's not fashionable, Malta. I can't wait around to play babysitter for you forever."</p><p>Another voice, higher and irate, answers back. "And you're so very busy these days, aren't you, Ms. Wolf-whisperer? Maybe you should just let a poor innocent girl die instead, would that free up your schedule?"</p><p>"It certainly would," the cub answers decidedly and then sighs. "But I suppose I'd miss your chatter, Ms. Damsel-only-when-it-suits-her."</p><p>"Keep on like that and see if I ever speak another word to you, Nettle," Malta says and walks on, heading towards the wolf's hiding place, each measured step vibrating with dignified anger. The cub - Nettle, he supposes, though he doesn't recognize the name - follows behind, her footsteps quiet as the wind.</p><p>"Because I'm <em>so</em> unused to silence," Nettle replies sarcastically. "What did keep you, anyway?"</p><p>"You don't want to know," Malta answers darkly, before adding all too sweetly, "does it bother you, the secrecy?"</p><p>The wolf can hear Nettle rolling her eyes through her voice. "Oh, because it's such a horrible secret, why you went to sleep late, isn't it? I bet it was texting, I would actually bet that it was texting. As if you don't do enough of it during class."</p><p>"So you want to bet?" Malta challenges as they pass the wolf. He catches a glimpse of them; a petite girl with dark curls and a puffy, white-tinged coat walks along the cub, whose focus is entirely on her guest. Neither of them notices the wolf. "Then let's bet, one secret for another. Since I'm answering your question, you'll have to answer one of mine."</p><p>"<em>Fine,"</em> Nettle bit back. "In that case, I bet that you stayed up too late for some stupid reason and now you're pretending it wasn't because you wish your life was a shitty dramatic Y/A novel. Do you still want to take that bet?"</p><p>"Oh, but I do," Malta says, if possible, even more sweetly. "I was late because my dad came home and tried to kidnap my brother. Is that dramatic enough for your refined taste?"</p><p>Nettle freezes, pausing just ahead of the wolf. "Your dad did <em>what</em>?"</p><p>"He came to our home," Malta repeats, enunciating clearly, as though explaining a simple fact to a child, "and tried to kidnap my brother. The older one, who's just home because his weirdo priest boarding school has weird vacation times. He didn't come along with him, of course. Wintrow's always been a wuss. He also tried to get our mom back, which could've been nice if he hadn't been so creepy and pathetic about it."</p><p>"Cursed El," Nettle mutters venomously. Her anger ripples through the forest; it groans under its weight. "And I thought a dragon curse was the most messed up thing in your life."</p><p>"That's because you don't know me as well as you think you do." Cold replaces Malta's sickly sugared tone. "You just assume things and go around acting like they're true."</p><p>Nettle grips Malta's hand in hers and they stand there, two cubs in a forest that looms protectively around them. "I'm sorry, Malta. I do like you, you know. You're sharp and funny, and you know how to wrap people around your finger without them even noticing. I don't care to do it - I don't see the point when I can do things my way, but that doesn't make your way worthless or easy. I did use to think it came naturally to you, that it didn't take any effort to be a queen bee in the making and you're right that I judged you because of that. But that's the thing - you don't even let on it takes any effort at all."</p><p>Malta shakes a bit, her cheeks reddening as she brings her other hand to Nettle's. "Oh. Half the time, you seemed like you didn't even tolerate me."</p><p>Nettle snorts, her voice so soft that it shook the wolf right to the core. "Trust me, if I didn't 'tolerate' you, you'd know."</p><p>"So this is how you show you like people?" Malta laughs shakily, and the trees around the wolf shake with her. "By acting like saving their life from a dream-stalking dragon is just a huge damned burden?"</p><p>"Yes," Nettle says, quite seriously. "I'm judgemental and snippy no matter if I like you or not. But I don't stick around for just anyone. And I don't have to teach you how to control your dreams to keep you hidden from that pest - I could just wrap you in another dream and hide you from her every night. It wouldn't even be hard, I help a friend like that all the time. But you wanted to learn and I agreed to help, even if it takes me away from something I must do. That's why I want you to take it seriously."</p><p>"Oh." Malta's voice grows even quieter. "Then I've been unfair to you too."</p><p>Nettle waves it away and it gets easier to breathe. "Yeah, yeah, we're both mean bitches, it balances out. It wouldn't surprise you this much if you knew what I was signing in real life."</p><p>Malta lets out a delighted giggle. "You're a menace, aren't you!"</p><p>"Since when is that news?" Nettle asks pointedly and pulls Malta's hands into her coat pocket. "Your hands are freezing."</p><p>"Then make it warmer. Can't you do that, oh mistress of dreams?" The wolf practically hears teasing eyelashes being batted around the title and suddenly wishes he were far away, not witnessing this.</p><p>Nettle laughs and at once, it smells no more of autumn, but of the ripe buds of late spring. Petals flow through the bright morning, airy and light and her coat has turned to a matching dress of lavender. The wolf cannot see but he is sure that it is even more intricate than the last. He truly wishes he could leave. Somewhere in the forest, three cubs are tumbling about in a dream that isn't theirs, in turns annoyed and delighted at the change. They are not as they should be, the wolf knows suddenly, just as the wolf doesn't remember what he should. They are lost without knowing it and their pack-mates are lost even deeper still.</p><p>"You should be able to do this too, by now," Nettle tells her guest. "But not right now. What else can I do to help? Should I fill your dad's nights with such horrible nightmares that he'll break down at just the <em>thought</em> of bothering you again? Because I can do that. I can make sure he never bothers you again, Malta."</p><p>Malta laughs, high-pitched, which then becomes a whine and through the trees, the wolf sees her stumble into the dream maker's arms. They stay like that for a time, as she cries. "I don't know," Malta whispers into the back of Nettle's dress eventually. "I should want that, shouldn't I? I should've hated dad when he hit Wintrow 'cause he got mad he wouldn't go be the heir for some shipping business my mum traded him for to get him off our backs. But I just wanted him to take me instead. I could be good at it, whatever he wants him for. I was much better than Wintrow when my family still went to those networking parties. I could have my <em>life</em> back, without mom and Ronica acting like I'm doing everything wrong all the time. But that wasn't enough for him," she adds, suddenly bitter. "So I cried for help. Wintrow wouldn't do it because of some shitty pride and I was the only other one there. I also filmed dad, so he wouldn't try anything else. But I- I-" The girl is wrecked with sobs again and the wolf wishes badly to tear out her father's throat.  "I saw them earlier. I could've called out earlier, before dad hit him. But I didn't <em>want to</em>. Even after everything, I didn't want that."</p><p>"Well, <em>screw</em> him. You deserve better," Nettle exclaims, her own voice growing brittle. The wolf sees her hands tighten around her guest. "Of course you'd want him to be there, he's your dad! It's not your fault that he's a piece of shit and it's not your fault that he hurt your brother."</p><p>"Yeah," Malta whispers, before resolutely getting out of their embrace and wiping her tears. "I wish I could convince myself of that. But I can't, not now. So maybe it would be the smart move, but I don't want you to hurt him or to meet him at all."</p><p>"And if he comes back and tries to hurt you?" Nettle asks mulishly. "I can stop him without hurting him. I promise."</p><p>"I don't- I don't know, okay? He's always been my invincible dad and everything <em>good</em> in our family, and I can't even tell if I'm scared he'll hurt you or if I somehow want him to succeed just so I can see him again. So- don't, please, Nettle. Not now. Not yet."</p><p>"Alright." Something had rattled the cub, the shroud of rage around her gaining a note of fear. The slope of her back looks very tired. The wolf growls quietly. She should never have to feel that way, because Nettle is <em>his</em>. While he's pondering what that means, his cub continues. "Would it- would it help if I taught you? How you could visit his dreams and stop him yourself?"</p><p>"...You would do that? For me?" Malta draws closer again and as she faces into the wolf's direction, he sees a blossoming devotion of such intensity that he fears for them both. It is painful, to love that much. Painful more to lose it, because of foolishness or- or because of fate. His head hurts. His body feels too hot to breathe. What is happening? What can't he remember?</p><p>"Thank you, Nettle, thank you so much. Of course I want to learn it, I really do, even if I don't know if I'll ever use it against him. I want to become powerful like you so that no one can ever hurt me again."</p><p>"Trust me on that," Nettle says bitterly, "you can always be hurt, no matter how powerful you get. But I'll protect you, I swear I'll keep protecting you until I've shown you how you can protect <em>yourself</em>."</p><p>The wolf falls to his feet, as his pain sharpens into agony. It attacks him, wave after wave. He remembers Nettle. Of course he remembers Nettle, the daughter that he'd never raised. He doesn't know the girl, but he can sense potential in her, potential for a magic that is his. That was his? He doesn't know. He cannot remember if he is alive or dead. For a terrifying moment, he cannot remember if ------- is alive or dead. But he took on that fate, didn't he? He'd protected him, even if he hadn't protected Nettle, not enough.</p><p>Her brothers tug at his awareness, their wolfness threatening to overwhelm him. It terrifies him that they're like that. How could it happen? Burrich had tried so hard to keep them human, even if Swift hated him for it. It's all wrong, but he has to know, has to know if he can fix this and make up for what he failed to do, even though the pain tries very hard to pull him away. But if there is one thing FitzChivalry has always possessed, it is the Wit and if there is something that has eaten him through, it is the Skill. They are different from the magic of this place, but the differences are subtle and FitzChivalry pushes past them. Chivalry, Hearth, Just. The eldest and the two youngest of them all are here, kept and folded into their sister's dream. They truly have lost themselves, with only hints of memories that they were human once. But that is not all that is to them. Something is weaving itself around them, threading up their very parts and making something new. It's- Nettle's handiwork, FitzChivalry is surprised to note. Slowly, painstakingly, she is creating human dreams for them. But where is the rest? Where are Swift, Steady and Nim? He tries to look beyond the dream, to see a place Nettle hasn't yet perceived. Nettle has always had more power in the Skill, this remains true even in this strange place. But she doesn't have the Wit; she cannot sift with both, weaving one into the other with an ease he'd never noticed before. FitzChivalry finds them and they are awake, stalking through trees in the dark. But even awake, they are wolves; Swift and Nim looking exactly alike and Steady a heavier-set animal with a darker shade of grey. Fitz has known their joy. It is a fate worse than death. What could have brought them to this?</p><p>Swift growls at him, more aware than his litter-mates. His dark eyes bore right into Fitz's soul and he knows Swift, in that moment, in this heady mixture of Skill and Wit. He knows the joy of play-fighting with his litter-mates, the wildness of the hunt and he knows the edges of his human self, burned so deeply his soul still bears its marks.</p><p>Fitz has his answer and he almost wishes he could take it back. It fills him with nausea that mingles with the sweet, tormenting pull. It was Burrich. Burrich himself brought his sons to this, trying to separate man from wolf in a world where they are both. They aren't Witted, not the way Fitz knows it - like the dream world, it's just shy of what he knows, but it is too real to be an illusion. So a different world? Or another time where the powers had changed with it, as a species could change and die out?</p><p>Fitz doesn't know. He supposes it doesn't matter. He keeps his hold on Swift and gently suggests he find a place to sleep. He's tired, isn't he? And the hunt isn't going well. They'd already eaten a bit, so better keep their energy for a better hunt. Swift is reluctant, but Fitz is insistent. He listens. Steady and Nim follow him and Fitz whispers to them too, of sleep and, he dares, of dreaming.</p><p>"What did you do?" Nettle asks somewhere and Fitz hears her wonder and her relief. She has searched for them for so long now. He can barely talk, his mind torn up between remembering and the hooks inside his soul.</p><p>"I brought them to you," he says at last. "I'm sorry. I wish you didn't need to free them."</p><p>"Who are you?" Nettle asks, her voice disembodied and fading. "Why did you help me?"</p><p>"Because you deserve to be helped," Fitz thinks, before he is dragged away.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The smell of coffee and medicine fills the room. Keppet wrinkles his nose sleepily, before succumbing to awakeness. He feels weak all over and his head is one single migraine, which does not bode well for the day. With his luck, it'll be Monday. Oh sweet Eda, he hopes he didn't have a seizure. He always feels like shit after those.</p><p>He opens his eyes reluctantly and smiles when he looks up. At least his Beloved is here. Which is also a strike against seizure - if it was bad enough that he doesn't remember what happened, he figures he'd be waking up in a hospital instead. The day is looking up.</p><p>"Hi," he rasps and Beloved lets out a startled grin.</p><p>"Hi," they breathe back. "Welcome back from the not-dead."</p><p>"That's a relief," says Keppet. "I don't think I'd suit being dead."</p><p>"Are you sure?" Beloved asks with an arched brow. "What better way to be safe from buttons, pastel and stripes?"</p><p>"And neckties," Keppet reminds them. "And skin-tight pants. Actually, being dead is starting to sound less bad by the second."</p><p>"Well, if you need an incentive, I'll make sure hire Ms. Hastings just to make you the perfect funeral outfit that includes all of those," Beloved informs him. "And it will be <em>sparkly</em>."</p><p>Keppet groans. "Not the sparkles! I cede, I cede. But what did happen to me? Not dying doesn't narrow it down by much."</p><p>"You went and got yourself cursed," Beloved says, a frown creasing their face.</p><p>"Again?" He asks and slumps back into the covers, closing his eyes. "Actually, that sounds perfectly on track for me. What was it this time?"</p><p>"That urban exploring side gig for Shade did its usual wonders for your health," says Beloved not at all sarcastically, which is just par for the course for the topic of Shade. "But he also gave me the cure and asked you to tell him everything when you'd wake up. So it's up to you if you want to thank him or yell at him. I figured you'd get more rest at my place, so I got you here."</p><p>Keppet groans again. "It's Shade. Neither will do much good. But thank you for letting me rest here, you're a miracle worker."</p><p>Beloved shrugs and smiles down at him. "I know, I'm amazing. Do you need some water?"</p><p>Keppet tugs at their hand and kisses the tips of their fingers. "Yes, please."</p><p>Beloved snorts and retorts with a kiss to Keppet's forehead, which effectively puts him out of the game. "Alright, I'll go get you some. Try not to get yourself cursed without me again, will you?"</p><p>"I can make no promises," says Keppet, to which they pointedly turn away. "Beloved?" Keppet calls after them, softly, reverently, the memory of something harsh and painful nudging against his mind.</p><p>"I think I dreamt of you."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There's a fairytale about a princess who must make her swan brothers shirts out of nettles to turn them back without uttering a single word until she's done and it inspired me</p></blockquote></div></div>
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